


right side of real

by ShowMeAHero



Series: sweet creature [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babies, Briefly Gross, Childbirth, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Newborn Children, Pregnancy, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23219650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: It’s bad enough that people constantly feel entitled to comment on Richie’s body, and his relationships, and hislife,but now there’s theirbaby,too, and Eddie doesn’t know how to protect them both.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: sweet creature [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674445
Comments: 17
Kudos: 244





	right side of real

**Author's Note:**

> more 👏 trans 👏 reddie 👏 parent 👏 content 👏

_**july 6th, 2020** _

* * *

Eddie has a hard time protecting Richie the way he wants to, because _“the way he wants to”_ is by just locking Richie up in their house for the nine months it takes him to actually grow their child. It’s bad enough that people constantly feel entitled to comment on Richie’s body, and his relationships, and his _life,_ but now there’s their _baby,_ too, and Eddie doesn’t know how to protect them both. For one thing, Richie’s huge — much bigger than Eddie — and he always has been. Richie used to rub it in his face to annoy him; now, it just serves as a reminder that Eddie can’t really protect _either_ of them.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to feel after the baby was born, once he had to start looking after two _separate_ people, with their child outside of Richie’s body.

When he sees his baby for the first time, though, it doesn’t really fucking matter anymore. She’s tiny, screaming, a mess of flushed red skin and blood and _hair,_ an entire fucking head of jet-black hair, plastered to her skull with gore. Her hands are so fucking _small,_ and it jolts Eddie into understanding this like nothing else has.

She goes to Richie, first, because those are apparently the rules. Richie wipes off her face with his bare hand, and Eddie can’t find it in himself to stop him. He’s just awestruck at the way Richie already seems to know exactly what to do with her, pressing her face in the hollow beneath his throat, her tiny body curled up on his chest. Richie shifts, just a little, to look down into her face, pushing their noses together before he starts crying again.

“Eddie,” Richie says, wavering and calling for him without even lifting his head to look away from her. Eddie gets as close as he can, pushing Richie’s sweaty hair back from his face. Richie drags his hand forward blindly, reaching backwards and grabbing him by the wrist; he guides him down to stroke his fingertips along her cheek. She screams at him, and Eddie laughs around a sob.

“Thank you,” Eddie tells him. Richie drags his attention off of her to look up at Eddie, just for a brief moment. He’s flushed, blood vessels burst in his eyes, tears and snot smeared across his face, but Eddie kisses him anyways. He can’t _not._ “Richie, thank you— _so_ much.”

“You owe me… a _huge_ favor,” Richie says. His voice is still shattered and weak, but Eddie still laughs and kisses Richie hard on the cheek, then the temple, knocking their foreheads together briefly before he pulls back to look at her again. He strokes her cheek again, just once before the nurses take her away. When she comes back, just minutes later, Richie’s doctors are still helping him, and he shoves Eddie away to go to her while he can’t.

Eddie takes her, cleaned off, her hands and feet smudged still with traces of ink. He licks his thumb and rubs a tiny black smear off the palm of her small hand, then just holds her hand in his, cradling her body close against his own chest. The nurses help him pull off his scrubs and the undershirt he has on underneath, and he pulls her upright and into his own chest. One of the nurses plants her hand on his shoulder and guides him into sitting down beside Richie’s hospital bed.

Richie doesn’t need him right now, so Eddie focuses his attention entirely on their baby. She’s calmed down now, no longer screaming and crying, soothed to a whimpering. He holds her close, all of her tiny body pressed up into him. He can barely breathe, he’s so overwhelmed with _feeling,_ emotions so strong and so new he doesn’t even have names for them yet.

“Hey,” Richie calls backwards. Eddie gets up, slow and steady, careful not to jostle her too much as he takes her right to him, setting her down on his chest again. Richie’s cleaner, now, but Eddie still grabs one of the warm, wet cloths stacked up beside the bed and starts scrubbing him down himself.

The nurses leave, one at a time, bustling to clean the room and give them two minutes before going to their recovery room. A doctor hovers in the corner, clearly not listening as Eddie drags his chair close to Richie’s bed and sits beside him, dropping the side of the bed so he can get as close as he can.

“Look at her, huh?” Richie says quietly, voice breaking again. Eddie swipes at his cheeks to catch the tears that are cascading down without stopping. “Fucking shit, I’m a mess, I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, don’t fucking apologize,” Eddie snaps without heat. He kisses Richie’s cheek again before looking back down at her. She’s so small— so, _so_ small— and she’d looked that small in Eddie’s arms, but she looks absolutely _tiny_ in Richie’s. He’s huge compared to her, his hands big enough to engulf her completely if he just curled his fingers up all the way. He lifts her with so much care, pushing their faces together again, pulling her as close as he can get her.

“She’s real,” Richie whispers. “See her? She looks just like you. I _made_ her and she looks _just_ like you.” Richie kisses her on the crown of her head, damp curls of hair springing up into his face. Eddie shakes his head.

“She looks like you, see?” Eddie points out. He drags his thumb along her brow line, then up into her hair. After a beat, he traces the pad of his thumb down the soft curve of her cheek, over her lips and her nose. “All along there. That’s your hair, your face. Your nose.”

“Poor kid,” Richie murmurs. “Your eyes, though. She’s got your eyes, she’s beautiful. She’s so _pretty,_ Eddie. Thank fuck she’s pretty, I didn’t know what I’d do if she was ugly.”

“Shush, shut up,” Eddie scolds him. “She’s still all fucked up, look at her head.”

“Yeah, she’s had a hard fucking day,” Richie reminds him. _“You_ try doing everything she’s done today and still have a normal-shaped head.”

“It’ll go back to normal,” Eddie reassures him. He strokes his fingertips over her downy curls. “She’ll have a regular baby head soon.”

 _“Then_ she’ll be the prettiest baby ever,” Richie says. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“I think you’ll luck out on her memory of this,” Eddie replies. Richie turns his head again, and Eddie catches him in a kiss, easy, soft. When he pulls away, he sits back down in his chair, settling in for now so Richie can have the moment with her he just had. He draws his leg up at an angle, bending it so he can lean his cheek against his knee as he watches Richie with their daughter.

Richie just bows over her, holding her against his chest again. He bows his head close to hers, his hair falling loose over her, tangling up with hers. He’s murmuring softly to her, something Eddie can’t hear; after a beat, he shuts his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers. He just breathes, for a moment, sharing air and space with her.

“Okay, I’m good,” Richie says, voice breaking again when he lifts his head. The doctor comes back over to speak quietly with them, and the baby gets taken away again, sending Richie into a new round of tears because he doesn’t want her out of his sight. Eddie quiets him, stroking his hair back until he’s calm again. When he kisses Richie on the cheek, he sighs, softly.

“Thank you,” Eddie says again. He keeps his voice quiet and low, but Richie still hears him and smiles before sniffling. “You can cry again if you want.”

“I’m doing it with or without your permission,” Richie tells him tearfully. He huffs a laugh when Eddie kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at [@nicolelianesolo](https://twitter.com/nicolelianesolo) and/or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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